Ruey fern Tan

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2019

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https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/ruey-fern-tan/

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7 stories

“Tin Soldier” by Ruey fern Tan

Recess. A boy. Conversation. Leaning against the wire mesh fence, tugging idly at the ragged holes worn through it, he told me he wanted a fleet of Roman soldiers. I said: sure — if you’re willing to put in the work for it. It was one of our meetings in the corridor, the narrow grey strip leading from the darkened hovel of the classroom out into the sallow sun, which was filtering, then, through the net of emerald foliage that shaded this nook behind the restrooms. The Sports’ Day parade was rubbish...

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“Time Waits For No One” by Ruey fern Tan

I was wondering what R. could be doing up there, up on the second floor of the town’s only French café. She was leaning against the marble balcony, eyes blank against the sky. Downstairs, a revolution was happening, and she was doing nothing, all alone.Now, it wasn’t any of my business. People could behave as they liked, is what my Ma always said. Still, something about the way R. stood in stillness made me stop on the roadside and put down my box of supplies. I stopped, and I scrutinized her.Her clothes were cleanly and unt...

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“Loyalty” by Ruey fern Tan

That day, Master asked for the combat record. I guess it made sense, thinking about it. Nobles didn’t trust the commoners – but everybody trusted numbers. And yet Master, she was clever, charismatic; even now the men surrounding her on all sides of the round table (the largest one the trembling innkeeper could produce) were all leaned forward on their silky arms upon their blue silk sleeves. Leaning forward to listen to Master.I didn’t know I’d opene...

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“Marketing Change” by Ruey fern Tan

An ant was crawling up his wrist. It must have gotten into the cereal at some point, perhaps while he was at work. Now it sought to escape via the hand buried in cornflakes, currently extracting and depositing fistfuls of expired cereal to one dry mouth.Aaron was watching the telly. On-screen, the woman in the bathing suit seemed to watch him back. He looked away. At work, they said advertising was bad for your brain. They said it was a distortion in the free market, a destructive force. The dark lashes blinking up at him did not c...

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“The Treasures” by Ruey fern Tan

Kara’s hands were sticky. It was a thing she noticed absently, rubbing the sludge between two palms as she surveyed the tunnel. Half of it was wax, fallen from her candle. The other half, she didn’t want to think about. She noticed it, just as she noticed that there were three open doors, branching off, that there were ornate fixtures on the wall, now devoid of their torches, that there were bats squealing somewhere above. Then there was the dungeon vault, now behind her, cold and inky black.She pinched a bit of slime off her palm ...

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“On Becoming Marcus” by Ruey fern Tan

It was just a week that the capital spent without Marcus. These were long days, in the middle of August, when the stinging sheets of rain left most sane people huddling like hedgehogs underneath the pale white domes of their houses. Petrichor wafted through heavy air. Rich and thick, the scent marked the tail-end of one such shower as Con made his way through the city.Con despised to walk alone. He remembered this now, especially, dragging the wagon ...

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“Weekend Tea” by Ruey fern Tan

He came wearing a yellow raincoat. At least, that is what I remember him wearing, the day you forgot to answer the door. Memories from then rotted in my mind for a week afterwards, before this writing, before you. Knee deep in mud, he sloshed his way behind me to the bottom step of your porch. He said:“Why do you keep doing this?”His voice was thin, unpleasant, confusing. I remember I tossed him a s...

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